


Professor Potter: War Hero

by Chickenpets



Series: The Lost and the Found [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Auror Training, Begging, Bottom Severus Snape, Breathplay, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-War, Quidditch, Scars, Severus Snape Lives, Teasing, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickenpets/pseuds/Chickenpets
Summary: “What exactly are we doing?” Severus asked, folding his hands.“You told me I could decide if what we did was a one night stand, and I decided it wasn’t,” Harry said simply.“So, what, you’re going to court me?”“If that’s what you want.”***After Harry begins his new job as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Severus very quickly finds that he is in way over his head with this precocious twenty-something. Way, way over his head.***Hot Auror Harry returns by popular demand. And you guys. He's so hot. Enjoy.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: The Lost and the Found [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595656
Comments: 161
Kudos: 1141





	1. Say Please

Severus had been right when he told Potter that he would need a security detail. When Minerva announced that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor and Head of Gryffindor house was the one and only Harry Potter, an absolute hush fell over the student body. And then Harry stood up, and the whole hall seemed to collectively realize that that man, standing up, with the black hair and the broad shoulders and the dazzling smile - _that was Harry Potter?_ And then there was an intake of breath, and an explosion of cheering that shook the very walls. 

Severus looked over at him, standing there, waving rather awkwardly, and pursed his lips. That idiot wasn’t going to be able to teach anyone anything. Not a damn thing. They wouldn’t even be able to hear what he was _saying_. Severus thought back to the pictures of him that had been in all the papers four years ago. Thin, and ragged, and streaked with soot, his robes torn and his hair overlong. Blood on his glasses, but only a little. Well, look at him now. 

***

“I gotta hand it to you, Severus, you were right.”

“I often am.”

They were in the teacher’s lounge, in front of a dancing fire. 

“That certainly wasn’t the reaction I was expecting,” Harry said, and ruffled his own hair. Severus seemed to remember his father doing that a lot. But when James had done it, it had been annoying. This, though … was not that annoying. 

“And what were you expecting? Swooning?” he shot back. Harry laughed out loud. 

“ _No,_ come on. I was expecting - I don’t know. Whispering and maybe … maybe some polite clapping.” Severus rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be daft, Potter,” he said. “You’re the hero of the Second Wizard War. And you’re - what?” Harry was looking at him. And his expression was… shocking. Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Severus leaned back, skewered.

“And what exactly will it take to get you to stop calling me that?” he asked, his voice low.

“Hero?” Severus breathed.

“Potter.”

“You are Professor Potter now, aren’t you?” Harry blinked at him and then sat back, and looked into the fire. Severus positively _wilted_. 

“I suppose I am,” Harry said, and crossed one ankle over his knee. Then he looked back at Snape. “Withholding my title, then?”

“My apologies, _Professor Potter_.” Harry grinned at him.

“I kind of like that, actually,” he said. Severus kind of liked it, too. He glared. Harry chuckled. “That look really used to scare the living daylights out of me, you know.”

“Oh? Used to?” Severus asked. “And what does it do to you now?”

Harry tapped one finger against his lips like he was thinking hard. “Now? Hm. I suppose now it makes me want to slap it off your face.” Severus flushed and looked over his shoulder. The staff room was quite empty. “Yeah.” Harry laughed again when he turned back. “Like that. Shock it right off.” 

Severus did not respond to this at once, but took a moment to steady himself. Funny, how off-center Harry made him feel. With his laugh, and his jawline, and his unbearable confidence. And the way he’d touched Severus’ scars, without fear. And then came _back._

“What exactly are we doing?” he asked, folding his hands.

“You told me I could decide if what we did was a one night stand, and I decided it wasn’t,” Harry said simply. 

“So, what, you’re going to court me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“And what makes you think I’ll be receptive?” Severus tried not to look at him, but he couldn’t resist. Harry was leaning back in the armchair like it was a throne, his legs apart and his eyes hooded.

“You made some noises that gave me that impression,” he said. And then he brushed his thumb slowly across his lower lip. “Unless you were expecting to get off more than twice. In which case, my apologies, for failing to meet your needs.” 

Severus was blushing. He could feel it. He tried to fight it back. Harry sat forward again, and reached out to hook a finger between two of the buttons on Snape’s collar. 

“You were almost begging,” he said. 

“I wasn’t,” Severus breathed, allowing himself to be tugged closer. 

“No?” Harry asked. “I’ll have to try harder then.”

They were in the bloody _staff room._

Severus jerked away, but Harry seized the front of his robes and dragged him back in until they were nose to nose. 

“What in God’s name are you doing?” he gasped.

“Courting you,” Harry murmured back. 

The lounge door opened and Harry released him as Professors Flitwick and Sprout walked in, talking animatedly. They spotted the two of them by the fire, and Harry stood up to shake hands. His smile was wide. Severus pressed himself back into his seat, mortified, suddenly recalling in visceral detail the way Harry had knocked him to the wall outside of the Hog’s Head. Without preamble. Without asking. Without even touching his arm, or his back, to see if his attentions were wanted. He’d just gone for it. Like Harry fucking Potter always had. Reckless, bold, pursuing his desires with single-minded focus. ‘ _I’m not usually this forward,’_ indeed. 

At dinner the next night, Harry sat next to him. Positively ousted Professor Vector, in fact, and took her seat.

“Rude,” Severus muttered at him, but Harry just smiled.

“No manners at all, I,” he answered.

Absolutely everyone wanted to speak to him, and in a way, Severus was glad. He didn’t like the idea of Harry sitting next to him at the high table, _whispering things to him_ , while the entire student body looked on. Because the student body was looking at Harry, and if Harry was looking at him, they would notice. And _then_ what would everyone think? Scandal.

He ate quickly, wanting to flee, but when he stood up to go, Harry made his excuses and followed him out. And the Defense rooms were on the ground floor, on the way to the dungeons, so Harry walked with him, seeming quite comfortable, and chattering at him like they were old friends. Severus was just beginning to wonder if Harry was intending to follow him all the way to his rooms, when he was stopped by a light touch on his arm. 

“Care for a drink?” Harry asked. Severus looked around and realized they were just at the splitting of the halls - to the left, the dungeons. To the right, the DADA Professor’s quarters. And that, of course, was Professor Potter.

Severus had never before in his life been pursued. But that’s what Harry was doing. Pursuing him. 

“It’s late,” he said. 

“No, it isn’t,” Harry answered. “But if you don’t care for one, you can say that.”

Severus hesitated. “Maybe one.” 

They turned to the right, and outside his rooms, Harry opened the door for him.

Harry’s personality had already imprinted itself on his staff accomodations. They were light, and airy, and there was an alarmingly large space in the center of the living room without a single piece of furniture. Severus stepped into it. Had these rooms always been so spacious? Harry closed and locked the door and then looked at him. Severus spread his hands as if to say, _‘what in the bleeding hell is this?’_

“I like to stay fit,” Harry said. “Takes space.” He shrugged out of his robes and tossed them over a chair near his dining table, and then moved over to a cabinet in the corner and began rummaging around. “What would you like?” he called out. “Wine? Spirits?” He looked up. “Soda water?”

“Wine would be fine,” Severus said. Harry pulled out a bottle of red and a wine key. Under his robes he was wearing a v-necked t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and the muscles of his forearms shifted nicely as he uncorked the bottle. “You are aware that you’re a wizard, aren’t you?” Severus asked when he was caught looking. The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up.

“I prefer to use my hands,” he said. 

“I’ve gathered that,” Severus muttered.

“Hmm?” Harry poured two generous glasses and turned back to him. “Cheers.” Severus took the glass he was offered and then held it still to be clinked. “Shall we sit?” Harry gestured to two overstuffed armchairs before a large stone fireplace at the far end of the room, and didn’t wait for an answer. Severus followed in his wake. 

When he settled down in his chair, Harry eyed him over the rim of his goblet.

“Can I help you?” Severus asked, and took a sip. 

“You look nervous. You needn’t be.” 

Severus pursed his lips and looked into his glass. “You seem to bring that out in me,” he said. “And I’m not very easily rattled.”

“Ha. Have I rattled you?”

“Down to my very bones, Po - Harry.” He glanced up just in time to see Harry smile at him in a very uncharitable way. “I mean, _Potter._ ” And then he laughed out loud.

“I see,” he said. “Trying to annoy me?”

“No.”

“You are. Call me Potter again, see if I care. It won’t change anything. It’s my name for God’s sake. And you’re in my rooms drinking my wine so - I feel like we’re past last name nonsense.”

“It’s not bad. Your wine,” Severus said.

“Don’t deflect.” Harry put his glass on the side table and stretched, and Severus watched him do it, remembering with sudden and violent intensity just what he looked like under his clothes. “Don’t you want to take off your coat?”

“I do not,” Severus answered, looking at the dark fireplace. And then flames burst into life there.

“How about now?” He was so charming. How did he get so damn charming? Severus looked into the fire for a long moment, and then back at his host, and did not speak. “Don’t be shy, Severus. I’ve seen all of you already. And here I am, back for more. Coat?”

“Fine,” he said, and set down his glass. But then, as he raised his hands to the long row of buttons on his chest, he stopped, feeling suddenly bold. He met Harry’s eyes, angled his body towards him, and held out his arms. Harry’s expression shifted. It was subtle, but he could see it. A brief narrowing of the eyes. A little heat. A little bit of the look he’d worn outside the Hog’s Head, under the streetlights. Severus swallowed.

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at him, and the buttons separated from their loops all at once. 

“Thank you,” Severus said, and stood up to slide it off. He folded the heavy cotton, draped it over the arm of his chair, and sat back down. Underneath, his shirt was buttoned all the way up to the top, but even so, the tips of his scars were visible as they trailed up towards his jaw. He had a nervous habit of tugging up his collar, and tried hard not to do it as he felt Harry’s eyes on him. The tendrils of his scars tingled slightly with the memory of his touch. Wanting it, and not wanting it. 

“I have a question,” Harry said gravely. Severus tugged up his collar and looked away. 

“Yes?”

“Why do you try to hide them?” 

Severus looked back up. “Why? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean just what I’ve said. Why. Do you try. To hide. Your scars.” His voice was unwavering. Strong, and fearless. Just like he was. Severus picked his glass back up and took a drink, wondering what he could say that this man would understand. 

“They’d frighten the children,” was what came out of him. Harry let out disbelieving snort.

“As if you don’t frighten them already. You _terrified_ me, and all of my classmates. And you meant to.”

“They’re grotesque.” That was more true. They were hideous. Disfiguring. Like everyone could see into his soul. Like all of his sins had been burned onto his skin. Punishment from an angry God.

“I like them.”

He _what?_

Severus stood up abruptly and turned towards the fire. “Don’t _lie.”_

Harry stood up, too. “It’s not a lie. Those scars are a badge of honor. You should have no shame.” What an outrageous thing to say. “Let everyone else be ashamed. Not you.” _Intolerable._ Severus whirled around to face him.

“No shame?” he demanded, holding out his hand as Harry tried to pursue him. “You have no _idea._ ” Harry grabbed his wrist, and not gently. 

“I know everything,” he said. “I was at your trial. And I say _no shame._ ” Severus wrenched his arm free.

“So, what, I can be like you? So blindingly arrogant that you waltz into this school and directly into my life like you own me? Telling me to show my scars with _pride._ ” He scoffed, and turned away, but Harry spun him back around and slammed him up against the wall so hard that it knocked the air out of him. 

“Am I arrogant?” he demanded. “Or am I right?” 

Severus sucked in a shallow breath, his lungs seizing up. And it wasn’t the impact. It was the look in his _eyes_. It made him almost dizzy, and it was almost like fear. But also - not like fear. 

“You’re _arrogant_ ,” he spat, and shoved him off. “How you can be so _cocky_ after what we went through I cannot begin to imagine.” Harry stepped right back into his space with no hesitation, one hand flat on his chest and the other on the wall beside his head. And maybe - maybe that _was_ fear he was feeling. Sick, vertiginous, like standing on the edge of a chasm.

“Well,” Harry began, and his voice was suddenly calm, cutting through the noise in Severus’ brain. “I won.”

He’d won. He’d faced down an army of Deatheaters. He’d cut down the most feared Wizard in history. He’d _died._ And he’d come out the other side, a man like this.

It was like two neurons touching for the first time, and all at once Severus went _weak_ with desire for him. And Harry could see it. Could see right through him. 

“I put Tom Riddle in the ground,” he continued, the rumble of his voice raising every single hair on Severus’ body. “And I set you free.”

“So, what?” Severus breathed, “I belong to you now?” 

Harry did not answer other than to kiss him. It was rough, demanding, and that liquid feeling in Severus’ legs redoubled until he was sure that it was Harry’s mouth keeping him upright, and nothing else. And then Harry’s fingers slid up against his scalp and tightened, pulling the hair at the base of his skull taught, and oh, _that -_ that was more than weakness. It was like his spine had been yanked out, and Severus didn’t even try to hold back the noise that came out of him. It was high, and thin, and Harry jerked him away from the wall and began walking him backwards. Towards what - Severus had no idea. And he didn’t care. Harry could walk him right off a cliff and he would go. Right into a pit. 

In the doorway to his bedroom Harry stopped and held him to the frame.

“If you want me to be careless with you, you don’t have to piss me off to get it,” he said, and grabbed Severus’ jaw. “You can just ask.”

_Get it together._

Severus sneered. 

“Is that what I want?” he hissed.

“Yeah. I think it is,” Harry answered, pushing him further into the room. “You’re pretty transparent.” Severus let out a yelp of terror as Harry threw him backwards, and then flushed as he bounced back onto a bed. Harry’s bed. And Harry was climbing over him, on top of him, right into his lap.

“How careful do I need to be with your scars?” he asked. 

“What?” Severus breathed, and Harry twisted his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“Your scars,” he said again, and jerked the two sides apart. Severus could hear the buttons hit the walls. _Holy - What? What did he ask?_ “How careful do you need me to be?”

“Oh - Merlin, I - not that careful.” 

“Good,” Harry purred, and closed his hand over his throat. “Wouldn’t want to hurt you, now, would I?” And maybe if their roles had been reversed, Severus would have called the sound he made as he was dragged up towards the pillows a squeak. Maybe he would have called it that, if it hadn’t come out of his own mouth. 

Harry straddled him, and then sat back to yank his shirt over his head, and Severus reached up to touch him - his stomach and ribs and chest - whatever he could reach. Solid, hard muscle, and that was all. He was just _hard_ , all over, like he was forged from steel. Harry grabbed his hands and pinned them to the bed.

“Do you want me to hold you down?” he asked, leaning over him. “I think you might like it.” Severus liked it already. He shrank back against the bedclothes, abruptly disarmed.

“Do you want to?” 

Harry’s mouth twisted up. “Do _I_ want to? You’re so diffident. Who would have guessed?” Severus fired up at once.

“I’m not _diffident -_ ” he began hotly, but Harry cut him off, his kiss fierce, open-mouthed, and absolutely filthy, and Severus’ mind went blank like he’d been imperiused. What had he been going to say? Something caustic, probably. He moaned instead and Harry’s fingers dug hard into his wrists, and Severus resisted against him, wanting desperately to have his hands free, but there was no give. None _at all_. He realized that Harry outweighed him - was stronger than he was - and as his kiss went on and on Severus stopped trying to struggle. He sagged back against the bed, his body tingling and slack, and when he did that, Harry spoke against his mouth.

“You ask if I want to hold you down?” He pressed Severus’ wrists into the mattress, using his bodyweight. “I want to. And, I think,” he kissed Severus’ cheek, whispering into his ear, “I want to make you beg.” It took a moment for this sentence to filter into Severus’ brain. And when it did, the sound he made was pitiful. It was just so humiliating - and he was so _hard_ \- and surely Harry could feel it, sitting on him like that. Surely he could feel that Severus wanted anything he had to offer. That Severus wanted to beg. That he wanted Harry to _make him._

_Fucking say something, Severus. Don’t just - take it._

He didn’t say anything. Not a single word.

“Mm,” Harry hummed, and bit gently down on Severus’ lower lip, tugging it. And then he said, “stay still,” and pulled back. “ _Evanesco_.” Severus’ clothes vanished, and he yelped and sat up. “ _Stay,_ I said,” Harry repeated, and flicked his wand. This time there was no incantation, but Severus was immediately knocked back flat to the sheets, his wrists stuck fast on either side of his head where Harry had put them. 

“Got a lot of tricks, haven’t you?” he breathed, trying to summon scorn. He was afraid it came out impressed. Or possibly… worshipful.

“You have no idea.” That little bottle was in his hand, and he climbed back up onto the bed and coaxed Severus’ knees apart. “But I can show you some more, if you want.” Severus felt one slick finger slide between his legs, and then inside him almost at once. No nonsense this time, apparently. 

“Are you going to fuck me like this?” he asked, his voice shallow.

“Yes,” Harry answered, twisting his finger, thrusting gently in and out. “When I’m ready.”

“You - _Oh, god_.” He’d hit that spot inside him, touching it with just the pad of his index finger, absolutely sure of himself. “More,” Severus said. Did that count as begging? Probably not. It was more like an order. 

“More?” Harry asked. “Already?” He sounded so pleased. Almost joyful. Severus flexed his arms against their magical restraints, his hands curling into fists.

“Yes!” he demanded. “Already!” Definitely not begging.

Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to his knee. And then there was a second finger. He didn’t move to stretch him, though, but continued to thrust gently in and out, just barely brushing against his prostate each time he pressed inside. A shiver ran through Severus at the light touch, from his toes all the way up through the crown of his head.

“Harry,” he growled. “Give me. More.”

“No,” Harry answered, and when Severus tried to pull him in with his legs, clamped his free hand back around Severus’ throat. “No,” he repeated, voice even. Severus dropped his feet back to the mattress. “Better.” 

He moved a little more firmly now, almost like he was rewarding Severus for obeying, and Severus pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, wishing he could cover his face. If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would be allowing Harry Potter to speak to him like this, he would have laughed in their face. Nevermind all of the other things he was allowing Harry Potter to do to him. The things he’d _asked_ Harry Potter to do to him.

But Harry’s breath was not altogether steady, either. And that made him feel a little bit better - that he wasn’t just being tortured for no reason.

“Harry,” he said again, more quietly this time. “Please.” The fingers inside him stroked maddeningly and then stayed on target, pressing. Not hard but - hard enough. He tossed his head to the side and snapped his mouth shut, trying to hold back the abject pleading that threatened behind his lips.

“Please what?”

“ _Please -_ fuck - _please.”_

Little circles now. Delicious. 

And then they stopped.

“Please what?”

Severus’ arms flexed against the magic holding him, and his legs came back up. “HARRY - ” he demanded, and then Harry’s hand was back around his throat, but _squeezing_ , and Severus’ whole body went rigid and then limp. “ - I didn’t know you were a _sadist,_ ” he hissed, trying to seem like he hadn’t just utterly surrendered. Which he had. Maybe even a while ago. 

“I’m not a sadist,” Harry answered, sounding kind, and leaned over him to kiss his ribs. “I’m not hurting you. I know I’m not.” With his mouth there, Severus suddenly became aware that he was panting. His chest heaving. And he was _sweating._ Harry said it again. “Severus. Please _what?_ ”

Severus looked at the ceiling, expecting the room to be spinning, but it was quite steady. 

“Please, can I have more,” he said slowly, forcing the words out one by one.

“There.” Harry kissed his skin again, with a gentle scrape of teeth. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” And then, thank Merlin, three fingers. Severus spread his legs wider and tilted his hips up, and Harry let him do it. And the three fingers were all the way inside him, stroking rhythmically, circling and curling and twisting, and suddenly Severus was struck with the terrible thought that Harry was going to try to make him come like that. With just his fingers.

He opened his mouth to protest but the sound that came out was more like a sob. Harry pulsed his fingers on the spot and cursed quietly. “Merlin,” he breathed. “I feel like I’ve wasted a lot of time that I could have spent listening to you fall apart.” He brushed his thumb across the taut skin of Severus’ perineum with a touch like a feather, and Severus’ toes curled, his body contracting and releasing once with a piteous whine. 

“Oh - god - ” he moaned, clenching and unclenching his hands. “I _can’t._ ” The touch inside him was relentless. Merciless. Almost _cruel_ , and Severus could feel his cock dripping onto his stomach. 

Harry’s hand around his neck released, and slid down to his chest, and Severus’ head curled up off the bed at once, desperate, gasping, and Harry leaned forward to kiss him.

“Oh, Severus,” he murmured, and then kissed his throat, and his scars, and then over his heart, which was pounding out of his ribs. “I think you _can_.” He pressed a little harder, moving a little faster. “And I think you’re going to. And it’s going to tear you to _pieces_.” He bit down on Severus’ chest, hard, and began to suck, and Severus’ legs started to shake.

“ _Fuck,”_ he moaned. “Harry - oh - _please, please, oh please - ”_ Harry moaned too, almost in sympathy, and lifted his head, turning his face into Severus’ neck.

“Oh, yes, that’s so good.” He sounded like a _master._ Like a _god._ “You’re so close. I can feel it. Let go. Just let go.” He bit gently at the mass of scar tissue over Severus’ carotid artery, and Severus cried out, balanced on the blade’s edge between pleasure and agony. And then Harry’s mouth left his skin, and Severus knew he was being watched, and it was _unbearable_ to be seen like this. He turned his face towards one of his trapped hands, wanting to cover his mouth - wanting to muffle the excruciating noises that were pouring out of him, but he couldn’t quite reach, and then Harry’s fingers dug into his jaw and turned his face back to center.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered, and Severus obeyed - helpless, obedient - and managed to keep them open just long enough to register Harry’s pupils. They were huge, and dark, and that was all it took - just looking at him - and he was undone. His eyes rolled back, squeezing shut, and he was coming, his cock untouched, his voice cracking, wracked with shudders so violently strong that he thought he might tear off his own arms pulling on the restraints. “ _Solvo!_ ” The bonds vanished, and Severus lurched upward, clinging, trembling, pressing his face into Harry’s neck, and Harry’s fingers were still inside him, still moving, wringing every last atom of pleasure out of him, until there was absolutely nothing left. 

He fell back against the pillows, gasping, rapturous, and Harry withdrew his fingers and followed him forward, laying over him. And the hand he’d used to grip Severus’ jaw so brutally was in his hair - gentle, no, _tender_ \- and everything about him was so unbelievably perfect that it felt like a fantasy _._

And… Harry was hard, pressing against Severus’ hip. Still in his trousers.

“Can I?” he asked, his breath almost ragged. “Severus. Can I?”

_Yes. Yes._

Severus laboriously turned his head to kiss him, slow, sensuous, and when he finally felt he could speak, he did. “Yes,” he said. “You can. Just - not too hard - just yet.” Harry exhaled slowly against his mouth.

“I can do that,” he said. “I can be careful.”

Severus was so spent, and so yielding, that when Harry pressed into him it was like a hot knife into butter. And he thought, at first, that there was no way he could get hard again after what had just been done to him. He’d thought that. At first. 

“ _Oh, God,”_ Harry moaned as he bottomed out, “I really warmed you up, didn’t I?” He began to thrust, his movements calibrated, and Severus could feel in the tension in his body how much he was holding back. Like a coiled spring. Restraining himself. Using his strength for control instead of force. Severus’ fingertips slid in the sweat on his back, and over the ridges of his spine, and he felt like an _animal_ \- a primordial creature - muscle and bone and heat and passion wrapped so tightly in skin that it seemed he was on the brink of bursting out. Trying so hard not to hurt him, knowing that he so easily _could_. And it was possibly the most erotic thing Severus had ever experienced. 

His spine started to tingle, and slowly, slowly, the tingling spread until he _was_ hard again. And he knew Harry had felt it when his hips jerked forward, hard, just once, like he couldn’t stop himself. Then he froze. “Ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” Severus answered him, grabbing the back of his neck. “Yes, it’s - ” Harry twitched inside him and he broke off. “Ah - _fucking perfect._ ” 

“Severus,” he growled, tensing up. His fingers dug into the bedding like he was trying to stamp on an urge. Severus pressed his nails into the nape of his neck.

“Take it,” he breathed, and pulled him down into a kiss. “Just - just take what you want.” 

A feral noise rumbled out from Harry’s chest, and in the moment before he began to move, he trembled like a stallion, and Severus felt the potential in him for such incredible savagery that he wondered what it would be like to face him on the battlefield, now. Now that he was like _this_. And then Harry snapped his hips forward, almost knocking Severus’ head into the wall. He did it again, and his hand slammed into the headboard - bracing himself, Severus realized - the muscles in his arm cording out against his own power - to keep from hurting him. Wanting to _protect_ _him_ , even in this frenzy. 

Severus looked up at his sheltering hand, winded, almost in awe, and then he looked back at Harry’s eyes and found that they were locked on him. A molten ripple of sensation rushed through him. Had he thought he’d seen intensity before? This was overwhelming. It felt like being _skinned._

“ _Harry_ ,” Severus gasped, bracing his own hand over his head to push back, wanting him deeper. Harder. Wanting more of him. All of him. 

_More more more more more_. 

“ _You_.” Harry grunted at the effort, hair falling over his eyes, his fingers digging into the wood under his hand. “You have not been fucked enough.” A drop of sweat trickled down his cheekbone, and Severus followed it with his eyes, wanting to lick it off. He was so - 

“You weren’t here to fuck me.” _Was that out loud? Mercy._

“Ah - If I’d known,” Harry’s eyebrows drew down in concentration, and his lips parted around a sharp inhale. “I’d have come sooner. I’d have abducted you - right from the Ministry. Straight to Number 12. Tied you to the - bed - _fuck -_ can you take more?”

Severus thought he might explode. Might just shoot up into the ceiling and burst apart, like a firework.

“ _More_ ,” he choked out, and Lord have mercy, Harry gave it to him. Fucking dragged him to the edge of the bed so he could get his feet on the floor, and pounded into him so hard that the bedframe banged against the wall. Severus hooked his legs around his waist, pressing his heels into his back to try to gain some leverage, and Harry dug his fingers into Severus’ hips, and he was _sure_ there would be bruises. And God, did he want bruises. Black ones. All over him.

“Pin me - ” The words were almost forced out of him with an upswell of need so hot and deep that it felt like the core of the earth pouring into his body. Need, not want. _NEED._ “Harry - _pin me._ ” 

A noise came out of Harry then, and Severus had a single frozen moment to wonder if it had been a _snarl_ before - 

Hands closed around his neck. Calloused, and implacable, holding him to the bed, and Severus couldn’t breathe. Not even a little bit. And that wasn’t what he’d meant - or maybe - _fuck_ \- maybe it _was_. He took himself in hand and began to spill over almost immediately, unable to make a single sound, shooting up towards his chest - _again -_ and Harry’s fingers tightened intolerably, and his ears were ringing, but still, he could hear Harry say his name. Could hear him cursing feverishly, chasing his pleasure, and oh, Severus wanted to please him. And _b_ _adly_.

His vision going grey at the edges, he bore down with his body as best he could, and Harry gasped aloud, and curled forward, digging his forehead into Severus’ sternum. And then, just when lights were starting to pop behind his eyes, Harry’s hands suddenly disengaged from his throat, and sweet, blessed air rushed into his lungs with a flood of endorphins and a rush of delirious euphoria so strong that he was instantly addicted. This man inside of him was so strong, so devastating, so _ruthless -_ how had he never noticed? Merlin, how had he lived so long without knowing that Harry Potter was so fucking _dangerous?_

Harry went slack, his knees unlocking and spilling him onto Severus’ chest.

“Sorry,” he panted. “You said - not hard. I’m sorry.” Severus forced his tingling arms to lift up to touch him. His hair was damp.

“Quiet,” he murmured. Harry exhaled a weak laugh against his skin, and levered himself up onto his arms.

“Did I hurt you? Your - ”

“No,” Severus interrupted him. 

“But - ”

“Be Quiet.”

“Ok,” Harry said, and collapsed back down. 

They breathed together, in a sweaty heap, and Severus must have fallen asleep - because when he opened his eyes next he was under the sheets, and Harry was sitting up in bed beside him with a book and his glass of wine.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Harry said. Severus scowled at him.

“It can’t be morning.”

“No,” he laughed, and set his book aside. “It’s only been about half an hour.” Severus stretched and his back and shoulders cracked. “I have your glass, if you’d like it.” He handed it over when Severus sat up against the headboard. It was still almost all the way full. Severus had taken about two sips before getting dragged into bed. Definitely couldn’t blame the alcohol. Couldn’t really blame the alcohol last time, either.

He let the sheets pool around his waist, as Harry had done, and sitting next to him like that he felt like a sewer rat next to a purebred Irish Setter. 

“What?” Harry asked, looking at him.

“You’re very…” Severus began, and then stopped. 

Harry looked down at himself. “I got cut up a lot at the academy,” he said. “I think people were gunning for me, at first.”

“I was not going to say _scarred_.” Severus rolled his eyes. Harry smiled winningly and flexed his arms. 

“Were you going to say _muscular? Athletic,_ perhaps?”

He had been. Ugh. 

“You are obnoxious.”

“I’ve been told that.” He sat back. “Like I said, I like to exercise. I helps me, you know.” He tapped his temple. “Stay… steady.”

Severus supposed that made sense. Made a lot of sense, actually. And here he’d been thinking that Harry was just magically spared the fallout of all the violence and death. He took a sip of wine, and Harry watched him do it, and after he’d swallowed, Harry took his left arm and turned it.

“Your mark is gone,” he said. The skin of his inner forearm was blank, and white, and smooth. Had been for four years. Harry ran his fingers over it, and a little shiver fizzed over his skin. Severus was annoyed by it. How did his body dare find energy to feel anything but exhaustion?

“Yes,” Severus said. “It disappeared that night. When you - after it was done. I didn’t notice until later. In the hospital.” 

“Happy to have it gone?”

“Yes. I’d have cut it out twenty years ago if I could.”

“Mm. Too bad mine didn’t go.” He slid his palm over his forehead and up over his hair, pushing his bangs back and letting them fall into place. “I could have disappeared. No more scar, no more Harry Potter.”

“Not a fan of the adulation?” 

Harry grinned sardonically. “Not too much, no. I’m not that partial to the, you know, cheering and - weeping and stuff.”

“Well, there’s no escape from that, I fear.” Harry laughed again, and Severus could almost feel it under his skin. That laugh. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I almost choked you out just now. I think you’ve got a free pass to have at me.” Severus looked down at his hands as he felt his face heat. 

“Yes. Well. You’re only twenty-two.” 

“And barely.”

“How are you so experienced? I mean...” He meant sexually. But he couldn’t quite get the word out. When Severus was twenty-two, he hadn’t even been clear on what his orientation was, let alone been able to take a lover apart like that. Of course, by then, he was already a double-agent for Dumbledore, constantly in mortal peril. And he’d been wracked with fresh guilt for facilitating the murder of his best friend, Harry’s mother. There hadn’t been a lot of time for sport.

“Oh. Well, I was at the academy. And thank you.”

“What a non-answer.”

“It isn’t. The academy is kind of notorious. You know. Bunch of twenty-somethings. Closed up together. Stress. Combat. Competition.... you know.”

Severus blinked. That was a very vivid mental picture he’d just been gifted. “So, what?” he asked. “You spent three years at the Auror academy just breaking hearts left and right, is that it?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

And now he’d renounced his military career, and he was here, at Hogwarts. And Severus was in his blasted Gryffindor sheets, drinking his wine.

“And then you came to Hogwarts, and you chose... me.”

“Seems like it.”

“I do not understand you at all.”

“Me neither. I’m very complex.” Harry held out his glass. “Here’s to impulsivity and reckless nonsense.” Severus inclined his head.

“And with a very low likelihood of horrific death.”

“Ha! That too.”


	2. Courtship

Severus spent the night, and slept hard. No dreams. No nightmares. Just sleep. And then, in the wee hours of the morning, he awoke to Potter’s hands on him in the dark. He felt it in the blurry edges of sleep - Harry’s palm sliding up his leg to his waist, splaying over his ribs, and his warm body, nestled up against his back. Holding him. 

Severus shifted and murmured, and then felt Harry’s lips slide over his shoulder.

“Morning,” Harry whispered. His voice was rough with sleep and Severus shivered as he came awake. His hand moved over Severus’ skin again, trailing over the goosebumps that had appeared on him. “Mm.”

“Oh,” Severus breathed back. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, early.” Harry kissed the back of his neck. “Still dark.” His hand wrapped around Severus to his chest, and brushed through the dusting of hair there, and he shifted a little closer, and Severus could feel that he was hard. “Are you sore?”

He was sore. But… not that sore.

“No,” he answered, pressing back a little against him.

“Good.” The word feathered out with his breath, and the hand on Severus’ chest slid down his belly and between his legs. Severus hadn’t been hard when he woke up, but that was rapidly solving itself. In Harry’s hand he swelled easily, and Harry gave a little hum of approval and pressed still closer. His body was so hot, it was almost like being curled up against a furnace, and Severus relaxed back against him, wanting to gather as much of his heat as he could. 

Harry’s fingers gave him a gentle squeeze, and then disappeared, and he mumbled something into Severus’ shoulder. There was a vague little tingle in the air, and when Harry’s hand closed back around him, it was slick with lubrication. Severus’ hips flexed forward into it with a tiny gasp of surprise.

 _What kind of despicable pervert learns to wandlessly conjure lubrication?_ he thought. And then he said it out loud. Harry chuckled lightly against his skin.

“That’s me,” he breathed. “A despicable pervert.”

This time, he was very gentle, and Severus had the distinct impression that he was being peeled like an orange - his hard, acid, carefully constructed persona sloughed off of him to reveal the soft flesh within. Two fingers inside him, first, but only for a moment. Possibly Harry was making sure he didn’t need more preparation, which he didn’t. He felt stretched open and used from the night before, and yes, sore, but when Harry began to press inside him there was no pain, just an exquisite sensation of being filled, right up to the brim. Harry did not start moving immediately, but stayed still like that for a long moment, just breathing, all the way inside. And then, slowly, he shifted his hips back and rocked them forward, and began to find a rhythm. Easy, gentle - just on the edge of not enough - and then he started to move his hand. Severus reached back for him and sank his fingers into his hair.

“Oh, that’s,” he started, but broke off, his hips stuttering forward, as Harry’s fingers twisted around him. 

“Good?” Harry offered. 

Severus thought that had never before heard a word so inadequate as _‘good.’_ It wasn’t _good,_ it was…dream-like. In the warm cocoon of blankets, the haze of early morning, tender, and sensual, and almost painfully lovely. Like a wish, fulfilled. A hunger, satisfied. Like poetry. Music. Art. Like he had never been touched like this before and his brain was spitting out embarrassing, sappy nonsense. 

“Yes,” he answered.

Harry kissed the side of his neck and wrapped his other arm around him, holding him so close that he was barely moving at all - just the tiniest pulsing of his hips - buried inside him all the way to the hilt. An inch out, an inch in. His movement fluid, deliberate, and slow. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured. “I could do this forever.” Severus shivered, and did not speak. Harry spoke again, though. “I was looking for something.” He sounded almost like he was still half-asleep. “Looking for _ages_. I didn’t know it was you. And you were here, all along. You were here.” Severus felt the tip of his nose brush behind his ear, his breath hot, and his body smooth and strong behind him, and around him. And maybe he’d been searching, too, for something. Or waiting to be found. For years, maybe. “Oh - I’m - ” Harry shuddered once and moved just a bit faster.

“Yes,” Severus breathed, pressing back against him, and Harry’s hand around his cock began to pump earnestly. “Oh, _yes_.” 

“I’m - _fuck_ \- ” He began to lose his rhythm, his careful strokes becoming ragged, his arm around Severus’ chest flexing, and he _whimpered_ , and Severus tipped over. They came together, almost at the same moment, and together, they rode out the aftershocks, and finally, finally, fell still. 

Harry was breathing hard, still inside him, when he said, “sorry, that was - kind of - fast.” Severus almost gave him a smack, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he slid his palm over Harry’s forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle and bone, and wishing, just a little, that they could stay suspended forever in this one perfect night. Wishing, too, that he’d stayed in Harry’s shabby, rented room at the inn that first time. If he’d known it would have been like this, he would have stayed.

“You apologize a lot for someone that gives out orgasms like candy,” he muttered, eyelids drooping. Harry let out a breath.

“You’re far more complementary than I remember.”

***

When Severus woke up next there was sunlight streaming into the room, and Harry was not there. He sat bolt upright. What time was it? Merlin if he’d slept through a class - If Harry had left without him - 

He conjured a dressing gown and dashed into the living room, and then stopped like he’d hit a wall.

Harry was in there, doing pushups in the middle of the floor. In his underwear. 

“Hang - on - I’m - almost - done,” Harry said, his words broken up by each hard exhale. He did seven more, and then leapt to his feet like a bloody gymnast, and wiped his face with a towel. “Finito.” He was … glistening. Severus took a step back. 

“I - uh,” he started. Harry’s eyes searched his face and then he smiled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought you probably wanted to sleep. Didn’t mean to leave you or anything.”

“What time is it?”

“Half past eight. Your first class isn’t until after break. I checked. Mine is just before.”

“Oh,” Severus said. “Thank you.”

“Care for a shower?”

***

“You are courting me, aren’t you?” Severus asked as Harry’s hands, covered in suds, slid over his shoulders and down his arms. They paused, and then moved back up to his shoulders, and down his back. He dug his thumbs in a little as he drew them down, pressing them into the muscles of his back. It felt good.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “How am I doing?”

Severus looked over his shoulder at him.

“Well. Here I am in your shower.”

“And I haven’t even taken you to dinner.”

That time, Severus laughed, and then broke off with a groan as Harry’s fingers pressed into the juncture of his shoulders and neck, again with that gentle pressure, and dragged them down along the ridge of muscle, slippery in the soap on his skin. He gave a little more to his unscarred side, digging in his fingers, but over the scars his touch was light, and careful. 

“You carry a lot of tension,” Harry said. “You should stretch.” Severus thought that this moment might be the least tense of his entire life. 

“Mm,” was all he said. 

“Rinse,” Harry said, and Severus did, and then Harry poured shampoo from a bottle into his palm, and Severus thought he couldn’t possibly mean to wash his hair for him, but he did mean to. And he did. 

“I like your hair longer like this,” he said. Severus closed his eyes, allowing his head to be dunked under the spray. “It suits you.” His hair was longer than during the war, he supposed. All the way to the middle of his back, almost, and streaked with grey. “I like your silver, too,” Harry continued, working lather into his scalp with gentle insistence. 

“Bleeding nearly to death will do that to you,” Severus murmured. He remembered the first time he’d looked in the mirror at St. Mungo’s very clearly. The red wounds, some still open and suppurating. His sallow skin, and the dark circles under his eyes, and his hair - it had been so black before - and now, like this. The mirror was a talking one, but it hadn’t said anything to him that day. “You’ll put me back to sleep doing this.”

“You have to go to work, unfortunately. Maybe on the weekend I can put you to sleep in the middle of the day. Rinse.”

***

Harry walked him all the way to his office, and just outside the door, he gave Severus a kiss on the cheek. And then he paused.

“You smell like my soap,” he said, and laughed. “I wonder if anyone will notice.” And then he was gone, and Severus tried to remember who in the name of Merlin he was supposed to be teaching that day. First years? If it was first years he would have to be forbidding. Term had only just started and he had to instill the fear in them early or it would never stick. He wasn’t sure he could be very terrifying just then. He felt good. Maybe even great _._ The bite mark on his chest hurt just enough to remind him that it was there, and it seemed almost like his whole body had been re-made. Broken down and then put back together by Harry Potter.

He felt… different.

Really different. 

***

Harry was a man of his word. That first weekend together he did, indeed, put Severus to sleep in the middle of the day. Three in the afternoon, in fact. At lunch, he’d asked Severus if he wouldn’t mind going over his lesson plans with him to ensure that his classes were structured appropriately for each age group. And Severus had obliged him, and they went to his quarters, and sat at the table.

“You know that Patronuses are not required even at NEWT level, don’t you?” Severus asked. Harry had put them at the end of sixth year. Most sixth years wouldn’t be able to conjure even a wisp of silver smoke. Most fully-grown Wizards couldn’t even manage it.

“Yeah, I know. But they are fun. And I got a bunch of my friends to do them alright in my fifth year.” Severus looked up at him.

“Did you?” he asked. “Corporeal Patronuses?” 

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Ron’s is a terrier, and Hermione’s is an otter. Luna has a rabbit. Or a hare, I guess.” Severus raised his eyebrows, caught off guard.

“Well,” he said slowly. “I suppose you might try with your sixth years, then. Extra credit, maybe. May I ask, what is yours?” Harry looked at him.

“You don’t know what my Patronus is?” he asked.

“No,” Severus answered. “I believe my best opportunity to see it was lost due to you and your friends knocking me unconscious.” Harry’s smile looked a little like a grimace, and he looked away.

“Ooh, I think you’re not going to like it,” he said. 

“Why, is it a snake or something?” 

Harry looked back up. “No, it’s not a snake.” He hesitated. “It’s a stag.”

Severus blinked. “A what?” 

“A stag. You know.” He raised his wand. _“Expecto Patronum.”_ It was, indeed, a silver stag that erupted from the tip of his wand, and it cantered into the large open space in the living room. It stood there, elegant and powerful, and turned its head to regard them. Severus opened his mouth but no sound came out. “I warned you,” Harry said. The stag vanished and Severus looked back at him.

“You,” he said slowly, “have a stag Patronus.”

“Yep.”

“And I - ”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a long moment. “I need a drink.” 

Harry stood up. “Wine?” he asked. “Scotch, maybe.”

“Scotch,” Severus answered numbly. “Neat.”

Harry came back with two glasses and the bottle. He poured them each a generous measure. “I thought you already knew,” he said. Severus took his glass and downed it like a shot, and then held it out. “... Okay.” Harry gave him another. “Sorry - I really - I really thought you knew.”

“I did not,” Severus said. This time he took a sip, stamping on the urge to just get absolutely hammered. “What you must have thought when I - when you found out I sent the sword.” Harry smiled rather sadly.

“Mostly I thought that it was a miracle that your patronus was something I would trust. It was a miracle, really. When I saw your doe I didn’t even hesitate. I just followed it. No fear. None.” Harry took a sip, too, now, and looked into his glass. Severus just stared at him, his mind racing. His Patronus was a stag. And he was here, at Hogwarts. With Severus. Doing all kinds of terrible and wonderful things to him. He’d asked him out to the Hog’s Head and had dragged him immediately into bed. Had touched his scars like they were beautiful. And he’d done all of that knowing that Severus’ Patronus was his match. And Severus had had no idea. 

All the time they had wasted. All the time they could have - 

“Harry,” he said, and when Harry looked up at him, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Harry yelped in surprise, but recovered quickly, and was kissing him back almost at once. Passionate, grabbing him, and then suddenly pulling him to his feet. Severus heard a rustle of parchment as the lesson plans were swept onto the floor, and then he had taken their place, pushed down onto his back on the table.

“Can I fuck you?” Harry asked, dragging him to the very edge, and starting on his shoes. “I really want to.” Socks next, and Severus knew that he wasn’t really even asking. Harry’s hands moved to his belt and fly. 

“Yes,” Severus answered, undoing the buttons on his shirt so Harry wouldn’t rip it again. “Please do.” Harry stripped off his trousers and underpants, and dropped them, and started on his own clothes. He didn’t undress, though. He just undid his fly and pulled his cock out. And that - was fucking filthy. And Severus hooked his legs around Harry’s waist to pull him closer. 

“Do you need - fingers - ” Harry breathed, and there was that little tingle in the air again. 

“No,” Severus answered. “No fingers.” Harry fisted himself once with his hand, slicking his cock, and then gripped Severus’ hips.

“Good,” he said, and lined himself up. The press inside was intense, just on the edge of pain, and Severus threw his head back against the wood. 

_“More,”_ he gasped, pulling his legs in to make Harry move faster. Harry grunted in response, and thrust in hard, and Severus cried out. 

“You’re - fantastic,” Harry growled, and leaned over him to bite at his exposed skin. He snapped his hips forward. “Fucking _twisted.”_

“ _I’m_ twisted?” Severus reached out to grab his hair. “You have me on your _dining table.”_

“I try to go slow but you don’t want slow, do you?” Harry pulled him back more firmly as he drove forward, bracing his feet on the floor. “You want everything I’ve got.”

“I want _everything_ ,” Severus demanded. “HARDER.”

“ _God_ ,” Harry moaned. His next thrust moved the table back almost an entire foot, and he stumbled forward with it. “Severus - I will fucking - _destroy you_.”

“Impress me,” Severus growled back. The table scraped back again. _Oh Lord maybe that was a mistake._ Harry snarled, and hooked Severus’ knees over his shoulders, and slammed into him. There was a crashing noise as two of the chairs were knocked over, and then another as the table finally hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go, now, and Severus got the full force of it. He slid back a little from the edge of the table and Harry’s hands clamped down around his waist and jerked him back, pulling him hard into each thrust. Harry had good traction. His feet were apart and his shoes dug into the floor, and Severus thought that if Harry had bent him over the table instead of putting him on it, he would have ended up black and blue all across the front of his hips. A noise was knocked out of him - a loud one - and one of Harry’s hands disappeared from his waist, and then two fingers slid into his mouth. He sucked on them, moaned around them, somehow so grateful to have something against his tongue that he wanted it deeper, and he lifted his head a little to get more. 

“You want to come?” Harry was panting with the exertion, and Severus squeezed him with his legs, taking his fingers in all the way, and sliding his tongue between them. And then his mouth was empty, and fingers were curling around his cock where it was leaking onto his stomach. He gasped and nodded desperately. Yes, he wanted to come. Yes he did.

 _“Use. Your words. Severus.”_ Harry’s voice was low and commanding, broken up by each thrust forward, and Severus didn’t think he _could_ use his words just then. He could moan, though, and he did, absolutely uninhibited, and Harry’s hand around his cock started to move, slick with saliva and precum, and Severus moaned again. And Harry wanted him to speak. That’s what he’d said. 

_Words he wants words say words say something -_

“Harry - ” he choked out. “ _F-fuck.”_

That, apparently, was good enough, and Harry wedged one hand between Severus’ hips and the edge of the table and lifted him up, and was suddenly impossibly _deeper,_ and his fingers tightened, and Severus had never screamed like this in front of another person. Or ever, probably. 

“Oh, _yes_ \- ” Harry moaned, fingers slipping in Severus’ come as it pulsed out of him. “Take it, take it, _fucking take it - ”_ He bit down hard on Severus’ stomach, driving his hips forward mercilessly, and there was a weird sort of crunching sound, and then Harry’s teeth released and he cried out, open-mouthed against Severus’ skin, and, shuddering hard, spilled inside of him. 

He collapsed forward, gasping, and just managed to catch Severus’ legs as they slid from his shoulders. “Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Sorry - almost - dropped you.” 

“Stop - saying - sorry,” Severus panted, and Harry laughed, and pressed into him one more time - and Severus _whined_ \- and then he pulled out. Dazed, Severus allowed himself to be tugged into a sitting position, and then Harry was standing between his legs and kissing him. It was slow, and sweet, and Severus went dizzy with the abrupt shift in tone. 

“Well?” Harry asked against his lips. 

“...What?” 

Harry pulled back and looked at him. “Are you suitably impressed?” Severus scowled at him and then looked around. Three chairs were upended on the floor, but the fourth was still upright, wedged between the table and the wall. The spindly little spokes making up the back of it were splintered. 

“If you keep doing these things to me I think I might have a heart attack,” he said. 

“You aren’t that old,” Harry laughed back. 

“I’m forty-two.”

“Like I said.” He offered his hand, and Severus took it to slide to his feet. Harry cleaned them both, and then the table, as Severus put his slacks back on and started buttoning up his shirt. It was white, and as he tucked it in, he noticed that the mark on his stomach where Harry had bitten him showed through the fabric. A little purple oval. Very incriminating. Severus pulled the cloth taut across his skin to see it better. 

_Come on._

Harry turned around and saw what he was doing and started laughing again. “Oh, jeez - sor - I mean. You… deserved it?” He smiled brilliantly and Severus rolled his eyes. 

“Where’s my drink?” he said. Harry got both glasses and they took them into the bedroom. And in the bedroom, Severus fell asleep on Harry’s chest and woke up three hours later. Three. HOURS. 

Just in time for dinner.

They were late, in fact, and when they came in together, Severus saw that the two available chairs at the high table were next to each other. Severus’ usual seat, and the one beside it. It was almost like everyone knew _._ But they couldn’t, could they? There had been no outward sign. No public display. And certainly no announcement. It must just be that Harry had indicated his preference that first night, and his colleagues were accommodating that preference. Special treatment for Potter, just like in school. Must be nice to be treated so deferentially. 

Certainly it couldn’t be that Harry had been at Hogwarts for a single week and already Severus was visibly obsessed with him. Couldn’t be that. No. 

Stag Patronus. Lord in heaven. 

  
  



	3. Beloved Potter

As Severus had predicted, Professor Potter instantly became the most beloved teacher in the school. Wherever he went, he was trailed by an entourage of students from all houses, and all ages. They seemed to want to ask him questions, or at least that’s what they pretended to want. Severus was pretty sure they just wanted to look at him. Or, perhaps they were hoping to be hit by one of his blinding smiles. He was pretty free with those.

The lore of Harry Potter The Student returned to high fashion as well, and Severus heard whispers in the corridors about how Professor Potter had knocked out a troll in his first year. Professor Potter had killed a Basilisk in his second year. Professor Potter had rescued Professor Hagrid’s prized hippogriff from certain death in his third year. Professor Potter had outsmarted a dragon in his fourth year, and faced down a fully grown blast-ended skrewt, AND won the Triwizard Tournament. Professor Potter had broken into the ministry of magic with a bunch of his friends in his fifth year. AND Professor Potter had dropped out of school, appeared out of nowhere, broken into GRINGOTTS, and escaped on the back of a DRAGON! No one seemed to recall how _Professor Potter_ had been there, in his sixth year, when Dumbledore had fallen. Or maybe, after the highly publicised Wizengamot trials, no one wanted to talk about that little piece of trivia. Not when Severus could hear it, at least.

It was pretty humorous, he supposed, to hear about Harry’s tenure at Hogwarts second hand like that. Especially because some of the students didn’t believe it. The younger ones, usually. They protested loudly in the corridors that all of that could not _possibly_ be true. Professor Potter was friendly, and helpful, and nice, and could not have been such a terror in school. Ha bloody ha.

The sixth and seventh years were all celebrities by proxy, now, too, as they had actually been in school with Potter during the last bit of his time as a student. One or two of them had even been _saved_ by Professor Potter, or so they said. Severus did not recall those rescues, but he supposed they were possible. 

What Severus had been mistaken about, though, was his assumption that Harry would not be able to effectively teach his students. Among the rehashing of old Potter trivia, and the worshipful whispers and soulful gazes, Severus also heard discussion of defensive theory and counterjinxes. He heard students quizzing each other on the unforgivables, and how to identify a werewolf. He heard students sharing what their boggarts manifested as, and that Professor Potter’s Boggart was a Dementor. And then they would start talking about how Professor Potter could conjure a corporeal Patronus when he was only THIRTEEN!

They were in awe of him. They wanted to please him. They were working hard, and they were learning. Severus was almost impressed. 

***

“You know, Harry,” Severus began, looking at him from over his glass of wine. “I’m going to blame you if there is a rash of deadly accidents in this school.”

“Me?” Harry asked innocently. “Whatever for?” 

“Your retinue has been swapping stories of your daredevil antics. I myself witnessed a third-year hufflepuff almost faint with excitement hearing about the Triwizard Tournament.” Harry laughed out loud.

“Are they? I hadn’t noticed.”

They were in Harry’s living room again, before a roaring fire. Severus had his coat off, and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and Harry was barefoot with his legs tucked up underneath him on his chair. 

“Haven’t you? I can barely walk ten feet without hearing your name.”

“What can I say? I got into a lot of trouble. Not anymore, though.” He grinned and took a sip. “Now I only behave with perfect rectitude. Absolutely honorable at all times.”

Severus felt a brief shiver of sense memory as he spoke. Hands around his neck. Strong, capable fingers digging in, cutting off his air. He scoffed.

“You are still a tornado.”

“Am _not,_ ” Harry protested. “Look how clean my rooms are.”

They were clean. Uncluttered. Almost spartan. “Just because your bed has hospital corners doesn’t mean you aren’t an agent of chaos. You’re throwing the student body into paroxysms of adoration.”

“ _Adoration_ ,” Harry repeated, scornful. “They just like my classes.”

“Oh, is that all? Tell me, then, why does one of my fifth years have a poster of you in his bedroom?”

Harry was appalled. “A _poster?_ ” he gasped, and covered his face. “Tell me I have my shirt on.”

“You do not.”

“Oh my _god_. You confiscated it, didn’t you? Tell me you confiscated it.”

Severus laughed at him. “Of course I confiscated it. No Slytherin of mine will be allowed to keep _pornography_ of another Professor in his room. I burned it. In front of him.” Harry moved his hand away from his face and raised his eyebrows.

“You burned it in front of him? That’s kind of violent.”

“I’m sure there will be many more.”

There was a moment of silence as Harry finished his glass and then stretched out his legs. His toes flexed and he raised his arms over his head. Taut, like a longbow. Then he relaxed, and looked back at Severus with a twinkle in his eye.

“Did I look good, at least?”

“In the poster?” He’d looked like a bloody Witch-Weekly centerfold. “You looked… fine.” Harry stood up. 

“Care for another?” he asked. Severus rather did. And after the second, he had a third, and after the third, he somehow he ended up in Harry’s lap, and then on his knees. Harry’s hands were in his hair, holding it back, and Severus found he quite liked that - just as he seemed to like everything Harry did to him. He took him as deep as he could without choking, and bobbed his head, and Harry seemed pleased because his fingers tightened in Severus’ hair and he gave a little stifled curse. Severus looked up at him and then immediately back down. His eyes, green and bright under his half-closed eyelids, obscured by his long black lashes, were still so deeply penetrating that Severus could not tolerate looking into them for long. Especially not like this. A pulse of heat ran through him and he spread his knees a little on the floor. 

“Mm,” Harry began, tightening his fingers still further. “Getting excited?” Severus exhaled sharply, wanting to say something cutting, but not enough to stop what he was doing. And then Harry’s bare foot shifted between his legs and pressed lightly down on the bulge in his trousers. “You are. Oh - ” he broke off with a gasp as Severus’ moaned around him. “If you want me to fuck you, you’d better stop.” Severus did not stop. Instead, he swallowed deliberately and curled his fingers around the base of him and began sliding them up and down. “ _Fuck_ that’s - ” Harry moaned, and then his fingers twisted tight into Severus’ hair and pulled him off. “Stop,” he said. 

“Why?” Severus asked, and then swallowed back the hoarseness in his throat.

“Because you’re going to get me off and I don’t want to get off yet,” he growled, and tipped Severus’ head back with the grip on his hair. 

“Alright,” Severus gasped. What he’d almost said was _whatever you want._ Harry seemed to hear that, though, even if he hadn’t said it, and dragged Severus to his feet by his hair. 

“Bed, table, or chair?” Harry asked.

“Bed,” Severus managed. “Bed.”

Severus was in Harry’s bed a lot. Almost every night, or so it seemed. More than he was in his own bed, at least.

***

Harry was not kidding about his love of exercise, and Severus saw him regularly jogging around the perimeter of the school in good weather, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, and a crowd of students hanging out on the lawn pretending not to be watching him. Usually, he would go into the Quidditch locker rooms and shower off after he was done, and come out clean and damp in fresh clothes. Severus liked to imagine sneaking in there with him, but of course never did. And it wasn’t just running. He did fifty pushups, seventy-five crunches, and fifty sort of odd jumping-squats every single morning. He had a pull-up bar in the doorway to his bathroom, too. Severus hadn’t noticed it that first night, but he certainly noticed it when he saw Harry using it. Shirtless, in a pair of heather-grey muggle sweatpants, chinning himself easily. Ten, fifteen, twenty times. 

“Are you… actually a human person?” Severus asked, watching him do it from the edge of the bed. Harry let go with one arm and did five more. Severus tried to control his expression.

“No, I’m a wizard,” he said, and dropped back to the floor, grinning. “I’m hungry. Shall we?”

“I bet you are.”

Harry’s fitness routine was so regular, in fact, that sometimes Severus found him out in the living room in the middle of the night, too. 

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Severus asked, wrapped in his dressing gown. It was dark outside and the moon was high. Might have been three in the morning, and Harry was in his living room doing his bloody pushups.

“Nightmare,” he said, pumping his body up and down. He was on his knuckles. “Weird one.” 

“Do you want to talk about it? Or… ”

“No.”

He was definitely doing more than fifty.

“Come back to bed.”

“I - will - just - wait.”

He took a shower before coming back to bed, and when he did, he asked permission before pinning Severus to the sheets. And Severus gave it to him, and Severus got off twice, and overslept, and was a full fifteen minutes late to his first class the next morning. And that had never happened before, not in twenty-one years of teaching. 

Harry _was_ an agent of chaos. He was rustling students from all houses, all years, and all genders into fierce competition over his attention. He was sprinting around the grounds like he didn’t know he ruining the lives of dozens of teenagers just by being so visibly physical _._ And somehow, he’d decided that he didn’t care about all the attention, and that out of everyone that wanted him, he wanted _Severus_. 

It was chaos. Just… utter chaos. 

  
  


***

Over the weeks, Severus found that he quite liked sitting next to Harry at meals, even though this arrangement offered many opportunities for his new lover to annoy him. To whisper things to him. To touch his shoulder, or brush his hand. To pour drinks for him, and pass him food. To inquire politely after his classes while his hand was under the table on his thigh, or his foot was brushing the side of his calf. He liked making Severus uncomfortable, it seemed. For, although they had not discussed it as such, Harry seemed to know that Severus wanted to keep their _romance_ a secret - and Harry like to tease him. He liked making Severus struggle to keep from reacting to him. And sometimes it was a real challenge. 

It took about six weeks for Harry to really cross the line, though.

“Severus?”

“Hm?” He hadn’t been listening.

“Would you like a refill?” Oh. He was offering the pumpkin juice. 

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Harry filled his glass, and under the table, his other hand touched Severus’ thigh so lightly that it might almost have been imagined. But Severus had not imagined it. He looked up. Harry’s face was quite passive as he poured the juice, his hand sliding between Severus’ legs, just at the crease of his hip, and then cupping him. Severus stiffened. He hadn’t gone quite this far, before. Not so far as to … fondle him. With Minerva on his other side, and two-hundred students laid out before them. 

Severus shifted his feet apart without meaning to, and Harry met his gaze, smiled, and rolled his fingers. Severus dropped his fork, and then, recovering, reached one hand under the table too and grabbed his wrist, hard. 

“Stop,” he hissed under his breath. Harry’s smile did not falter, but he relaxed his hand and let Severus push it away. With it gone, Severus was suddenly very aware of his entire body, sitting in this chair, in front of the whole school, with Harry sitting next to him. Like there was a glowing red sign over the two of them that said: AFFAIR.

Fucking Harry Potter.

It was very hard to make it through the rest of dinner, but Severus somehow managed it. And just as the plates were being cleared, Harry looked at him one more time, and got up to leave. Severus stared at his plate as Harry left, and counted to thirty. Then he left, too. 

***

He tapped twice on Harry’s door, and when it opened, and a hand shot out and jerked him inside. Severus’ gasp of surprise was muffled into silence by Harry’s mouth, and all at once he was up against the door, with one hand in his hair, and the other curled around the ridge of his hipbone. It dug in, and Severus discovered abruptly that he had a nerve right there, and at the pressure of his fingers it lit up, shooting an electric tingle straight to his cock. 

“Harry,” he gasped, wedging both of his hands between them and using his forearms to push him back. It wasn’t that easy. Harry glanced down at his arms and his eyebrows drew down. 

“What?” he asked.

“You can’t just - grab me like that.”

“What, in the hall?” he leaned back in, but Severus turned his face away.

“Yes in the _hall_ ,” he said.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Do you mean that or are you trying to bait me?”

“I - mean it,” Severus breathed back, but then he wondered. Maybe he was trying to bait him. Angling for aggression. He might be. Merlin knew he liked it when Harry was … forceful.

Harry released him and stepped back. “Alright. Wine?”

Severus stayed pressed against the door, almost panting. He felt bereft, and that feeling let him know that he _had_ been angling. Trying to get… what? The table again? Something. He followed Harry into the living room and sat in his usual chair. He folded his hands in his lap and then unfolded them. Lord, he wasn’t a _schoolboy._ And Harry wasn’t his _Professor._ Severus hadn’t let anyone control him since the war. Since Dumbledore, and then Voldemort, had been buried. And now, here he was, getting jerked around, and teased in public, by this _boy_. Despicable. Entitled. Rude. And it didn’t matter that his Patronus was a stag. That didn’t matter _at all._ All that Patronus lore about it representing your soulmate was bullshit.

Fuck. 

By the time Harry came back with the wine, Severus was annoyed enough to have crushed the weird submissive mood that had overtaken him, and he sat quite tall in his chair, and accepted the glass Harry offered him with a polite nod. Harry looked at him and then frowned in a rather amused way.

“Oh, have I offended you?” he asked, and sat.

“No,” Severus answered, and took a sip.

“I have,” Harry answered, laughing. “Don’t like being touched in public, do you?”

“I - ” Severus paused. He didn’t have much practice being touched in public, or at all, until very recently. Maybe he would have liked it if it hadn’t been _quite_ so public. “I’m not - used to it.”

“And with all the students around I suppose it wasn’t that comfortable,” Harry said, taking a sip, too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” 

Severus stared at him. He was _sorry_ , was he? How did he dare being so polite, and so compassionate, and so daring, and so physical, and so _sexual_ , all at once? It was like someone had dreamed him up, sculpted him out of clay, and then sold their soul to bring him to life. To torture Severus specifically, maybe. A brilliant, beautiful, empathic, kind, violent man that somehow managed to make Severus beg and then wash his hair in a single twelve hour period. This twenty-two year old siren that could tell him to “fucking take it” and also, “sorry.” And mean _both._

“Well.” Severus looked into his glass, and then at the fireplace. At least no one had seen. “No harm done. Care to light the fire?” Harry didn’t speak, but the fire ignited at his request, and when he looked back, Harry’s face was quite neutral. Almost serene. It seemed like a mask. 

“I have offended _you_ , I think,” Severus said. The very corner of Harry’s mouth turned down, and Severus was stuck with an alarmingly strong urge to apologize - even to _grovel_ \- for whatever he had done to put that tiny frown on Harry’s face. 

“No,” Harry said. “I’m not offended. I just - ” he ran his hand through his hair. “I really am sorry. I’m not always that good with - boundaries.” He looked into the fire, and Severus looked at him, and then something he’d read once suddenly surfaced in his mind. He hadn’t believed it at the time. He’d thought it was nonsense. Even slander. But knowing what he knew about Potter now, maybe it had been true. Not good with _boundaries_. 

“You,” he began, “I read in the papers back in - oh, I don’t know. Two years ago? You almost got expelled. From the Academy.”

Harry’s nose scrunched up. “Was that in the papers?” he asked. “How humiliating.”

“Yes, they said you - ” 

“Yeah. Almost got chucked out. For…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed. 

“Getting involved with an instructor.” 

“Yeah.”

There was a silence. Harry was still looking into the flames, and Severus let his eyes travel over him. In his distraction, it felt safe. The firelight threw his features into relief - his sharp cheekbones, and jaw, and the hollows at his throat. 

“Who was it?” Severus asked, after a moment. “I mean - what sort of instructor. They didn’t say. In the gossip column. Just that you were - sanctioned.” And that his longtime girlfriend, Ginny Weasley, had left him. Harry pursed his lips, deliberating. 

“Fighting,” he said finally. “Muggle fighting arts. He was - ” he stopped. Severus crossed his ankles, and held his glass with both hands. A lost love, maybe. Maybe he didn’t want to hear this. “It was the stress, you know. The pressure. I wasn’t good at it, at first. I got destroyed those first few months. Absolutely beat down. Broken bones, concussions, internal bleeding, you name it. I just wasn’t - a fighter. Not like that. I struggled.” He looked into his wine and then swallowed a large mouthful. “It was embarrassing. Unseemly. For me to be so weak. Like you said, it was in the papers. Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, in the hospital again. Just … struggling. I was top of my class in defensive magic, and disguises, and legal theory, and all the rest. It was that one area that knocked me out of the standings. I had to fix it, if I had any hope of graduating. He offered to tutor me. And he - ”

“Had ulterior motives,” Severus offered. 

“No,” Harry answered. “I mean, yes, he did, obviously. But I think it was just because it was me. That’s the only reason it was a scandal. That I - _Harry Potter_ \- was found in bed with a _male professor_ \- if it had been anyone else, no one would have cared. It pissed me off. And after that, I figured, well. They couldn’t kick me out for anything, as long as I was doing well in general. As long as my rank was good, I could do whatever I wanted.”

And he had done, obviously.

“Did he help you, at least?” Severus asked. “Did he make you a better fighter?” Harry smiled ironically into his goblet, and then scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “He made me deadly. Fucking unbeatable. All those extra hours. I was - I scared people, after that.” His hand twitched towards his abdomen in an odd way, then, and Severus imagined that maybe many of his scars were due to that one man, whoever he had been. And Severus hoped he never knew who it was.

“Well,” Severus said. “I hope he is deeply disappointed, now that you are not even an Auror. After all of his attention, and tutoring. Here you are.” He paused, and then looked back into Harry’s eyes. “With me.” Harry smiled at him.

“I’m sure he is. He was really - I think he really liked me.”

“I’m sure he did. Just like everyone that has ever laid eyes on you.” Harry scoffed and looked away. “Did he - how did he treat you?” Severus felt like he already knew the answer to that question, and he abruptly wished he hadn’t asked it. “Nevermind,” he said. “I didn’t mean to ask that.”

“No, It’s ok. It was … intense. The whole point was for us to fight. And we fought, a lot. And I lost for a long time. And then, I stopped losing. And someone saw us together, and that was it. He got fired. I got disciplined. And no one ever beat me again. Ever.”

Severus could imagine it easily. It was what Harry had gone through at Hogwarts, wasn’t it? The crucible. But at the academy he’d started out a killer. And he’d been a man, or almost a man. He must have been terrifying. Cut up, and hardened, and so _angry._ And afterwards, he’d come out not wanting to hurt anyone anymore. Not ever again, or so he said.

“Harry,” Severus said. He stopped, and examined his own feelings, and what he knew of Potter - from this conversation, and also their years together. “I’m feeling very strongly that I’d like that man’s address.”

There was a pause, and then Harry started to laugh.

“I bet you would - ” he said. “Turn him into a pile of goo.”

“Goo is much too good for anyone that’s ever laid a hand on you in violence,” Severus said. “How about ashes. Or dust.”

Harry laughed again, and then stopped abruptly, his expression darkening.

“You’d have to immolate a lot of people,” he said. 

“Line them up,” Severus answered. Harry looked at him, then, and Severus froze with his glass part way to his mouth.

“I want to take you to bed,” he said. “Let me.”

Severus met his eyes, and suddenly the bedroom seemed impossibly far away. He looked at the floor in front of the fire, and then back at Harry, and then he put down his glass, knowing that it was about to be knocked out of his hand. And he was right. Harry launched out of his chair and dragged him to the floor, and Severus’ head hit the ground, and he had the fleeting thought that whoever had forged Harry into this artwork of raw power and passion deserved an award and a slap in the face. And then he didn’t think of much of anything, anymore, as Harry kissed him, and was on top of him, hot, and hard, and heavenly. Severus grabbed him by the hair to keep him from pulling back, not wanting to break the kiss, and Harry made a little noise in his throat at this boldness, and gave him what he wanted. Kissing him fiercely, and pressing his head into the rug, and then tempering his kiss, slowing it unbearably, until it was like a raging fire banked down to red-hot glowing coals. Severus moaned helplessly into Harry’s mouth, and his arm went weak and fell back to the floor.

“Oh, I like that,” Harry breathed, and kissed him again, tilting his head, sliding his tongue against Severus’ like he had all the time in the world to do this. To just kiss him breathless for hours and hours, on the floor, in front of the fire.

Severus flexed his hips up, and Harry pressed down in turn, the friction between their bodies both perfect, and not nearly enough, at the same time. He wanted more. He wanted skin. Severus pressed up again, more firmly, bringing his knees up on either side of Harry’s hips to press his feet into the floor. Harry held his head down with one hand and pulled back to look at him. 

“I’m sorry for teasing you in front of other people,” he said. “Can you forgive me?” Severus tipped his head back a little under his hand and scraped his teeth over his lower lip.

“Leave it,” he said, squeezing Harry with his legs. “It’s nothing.” Harry looked down at him, and drew his other hand down the center of Severus’ chest, and then pressed down there, too, pinning him. Severus could feel how hard he was, nestled up against his hip, and he shifted a little, wanting more contact. 

“Tell me what you want,” Harry said, and Severus suddenly re-evaluated his apology. I’m sorry for teasing you _in front of other people._ A flush of embarrassment rushed through him, and Harry saw it, and his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip, and Severus could feel his color deepening until he was sure that he must be _glowing._

“Harry,” he breathed. 

“Yes?” Harry asked back. 

“You know what I want.” 

Harry leaned forward until they were millimeters apart, and he tried to lift his head to close the gap, but he couldn’t. “Tell me,” he whispered. Severus’ lips parted and he inhaled.

“I want you,” he said. 

“Not good enough.” Severus closed his eyes. Lord this boy was going to be the end of him. “Severus. Do you want me to fuck you? Right here on the floor?”

“Yes,” he managed. Harry’s voice was flinty when he spoke next.

“Say it.” It was an order.

_Oh, God._

“I want you to fuck me.” He paused, and felt Harry’s slow exhale across his skin. “Right here, on the floor.”

“Good,” Harry said, and kissed him. “Cause that’s what I’m going to do.” 

Severus had never had sex on the floor before. I was … an experience. 

***

The next morning Harry insisted on putting essence of dittany on his rug burn, which Severus thought was silly. It wasn’t even that bad, and he said as much.

“You wanted worse rug burn?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“I mean, not specifically.”

“Well, I’ll have to go harder on you next time, then, won’t I?”

Severus scoffed, and shrugged him off. “That’s enough. It’s fine.” Harry grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him back into his seat.

“I’m not done,” he said, dabbing again at his skin with the solution. Severus stayed still until he was finished.

  
  



	4. Control

As the summer weather turned towards fall, Harry started getting roped into pickup games of Quidditch on the weekends. Some of the older students _begged_ him to seek for them, or so he said, but Severus knew he was really just dying to play. He’d loved Quidditch as a student, and had been a truly excellent seeker, and he’d been robbed of the second half of his sixth year as Captain, and all of his seventh. It had been a tragedy, though Severus didn’t support Gryffindor at the time.

At first, a few of the more dedicated Quidditch and Potter enthusiasts came to watch the games. And then, after a while, a few more. And then a veritable torrent. And then Madame Hooch started to play as opposing keeper. And then there was a commentator. 

“PROFESSOR POTTER HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” Severus could hear it from inside the castle. “AND HE - ” there was a collective gasp so loud that it sounded like air being sucked into a wind turbine. “HEEEEEE’S GOT IT!!!!!!” 

Severus rolled his eyes. Harry always got it, and they always acted so surprised. Bloody Potter acolytes. He decided to go down into the Great Hall to see what the fuss was about. 

Apparently, that particular catch had been spectacular, or so Severus heard as the students flooded back into the castle. It seemed like every single student, in fact. And then finally, in the very center of the pack, Harry himself came in, surrounded by teenagers. He was windswept, and flushed, and so absolutely blindingly gorgeous that Severus wished he hadn’t come down. 

Harry spotted him.

“Severus!” he called. “Did you see the game?” The students closest to him turned to look at Snape, looking confused by his familiar tone. Little did they know how _familiar_ they were.

“No,” Severus answered. “Have you won again?” Harry threw his head back and laughed, and the urge to kiss him was so strong that Severus almost actually did it, right in the middle of the entire student body. 

“He was an INCH FROM THE GROUND! An INCH!” a boy next to him shrieked, and then turned red as Severus raised one eyebrow at him. 

“Almost plowed yourself into the dirt, have you?” Severus asked. Harry ruffled his own hair.

_Look at him. Mercy._

“Almost,” he said, and then his eyes flicked over Severus’ face, and Severus wondered if he was making some kind of… expression. “Actually, I’m kind of tired. Can I trouble you for an Invigoration Draught?” Severus met his eyes and saw that they were full of wild exhilaration. He did not need to be _invigorated._

“Certainly,” Severus said. “I should have some stored away. Wouldn’t want you to exhaust yourself.” 

It took a while for Harry to extricate himself from the fawning masses, and eventually Severus lost his patience and barked at them to disperse, and they walked together through the halls until the bravest hangers-on finally gave up. Then, alone at last, Harry unlocked the door to his rooms, dragged Severus inside, and kissed him. He smelled like grass and wind and sun and sweat and Severus wanted to eat him alive he was so perfect _._

And then Severus found himself pinned face down onto his dining room table, one hand twisted up between his shoulder blades like he was being arrested. Harry kicked one of the chairs out of the way and Severus gasped and flinched as it hit the ground and skidded. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he said, stiffening in embarrassment. Harry just moved his hair out of the way to bite the back of his neck

“Say that again and try to mean it,” he whispered, reaching between Severus’ legs and giving him a squeeze. Severus let his forehead drop to the table. He didn’t mean it, and he didn’t say it again. “I’m in Gryffindor Gear,” Harry continued, pressing up against him. “Did you notice?” 

Severus had noticed. “No,” he said. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well - if I’d been involved with you the last time you wore that, I doubt that _I_ would be the one pinned face-first to a table.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Harry chuckled. “You’re probably right, too. Shall we fight for it?” He slid his free hand into Severus’ hair and very lightly contracted his fingers, suggesting violence but not following through with it. “Or do you yield?” 

Severus’ trapped hand twitched and he thought about trying to plant his feet to throw him off, but could not imagine being successful. And, of course, he could not think why he should. Why fight, when face down on Harry’s dining table was exactly where he wanted to be?

“You know I yield,” he said, trying to sound annoyed instead of like he was aching to get on his knees. “Why even ask me?”

Harry pressed his head a little more firmly into the table and Severus could hear the smile in his voice. “I guess I just like hearing you say it. Turns me on.”

“I think you are already _on._ You were _on_ while you were still on your broom.” Harry released his arm and tugged him back upright. 

“Sure was,” he said. “Winning matches is very stimulating. Can I ask you a question, Severus?”

Severus turned slowly around to look at him. “A question?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking into his eyes. “How would you feel about getting your head pinned to the wall?” Severus had the urge to shift back, but he was against the edge of the table, and another little spark of arousal burst into life inside him.

“With what?”

“With my cock.”

“Oh.” Severus swallowed, and at the look on his face Harry pulled him away from the table and pushed him backwards until his back met the wood paneling. 

“You can say no,” Harry murmured, leaning close enough to brush his lips across the edge of Severus’ jaw. “If you want.”

“Say no to you? I wouldn’t dare.”

“Get on your knees, then.”

Severus did, and as Harry brushed his hair back from his face, reached up to undo his trousers. He could see that Harry was already hard, pushing up against his button-fly, and at the sight, Severus found that he was hard, too. Had been since he hit the table, he supposed. Or… since Harry kissed him in the doorway. Or since they fucking _met_ at that first gala _._

“Are you going to let me get you off this time?” Severus breathed, taking Harry in hand and looking up at him.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come right down your throat if you let me.” Severus’ mouth was watering, and he swallowed again, and closed his eyes. “Open up, now.” Severus did, and he felt Harry’s palm, warm and rough, cup his cheek, and then press his head back against the wall. “Mm,” Harry murmured.

The taste and texture of him was captivating, and Severus let out a little hum of pleasure as Harry filled his mouth - gentle, but insistent. He was almost too big to take, at first, as he’d found out that first time, but Severus did his best to accommodate him. 

He hadn’t had much practice at this sort of thing over the last ten or so years, but he was getting a lot of practice now, and he was getting better at controlling his gag reflex. So, as he acclimated, he tried to relax, and kept his eyes closed as he heard Harry gasp and curse quietly. But then Harry paused with a little growl and withdrew. Severus did not want him to do that, and he lifted his head to chase after him. Almost immediately Harry’s hand appeared on his forehead, knocking his head back against the wall, hard. Severus gasped.

“Stay,” Harry growled. That time Severus did look up at him, and every ounce of remaining blood in his body instantly rushed southward. Holy Merlin why did he look? He should know better. He was going to come right in his trousers. He closed his eyes again and stayed still. “Better.” Harry pressed back in, and, after a moment, started fucking his mouth, holding his head flush against the wall. 

It was all Severus could do to keep his hands in his lap, and he dug his fingers hard into his own thighs as Harry let out a single, low moan, sliding his other hand into his hair and tightening his fingers. 

“That is _gorgeous,”_ Harry breathed, withdrawing almost all the way before thrusting back in. _“Fuck.”_ Severus wanted to answer him - wanted to make some noise - _any_ noise - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t really breath at all, actually, but that didn’t seem very important. What was important was the sound Harry was making, and the absorbing discomfort of _pleasing him._

Harry pressed in hard, as deep as he could, and Severus fought hard against the impulse to push back. He squeezed his eyes shut, and his throat tightened involuntarily around the urge to cough, and then his mouth was suddenly empty, and he did cough.

“Too much?” Harry asked. Severus shook his head, and swallowed.

“No,” he said, his voice low and friction-rough, and he looked back up to see a shiver run through Harry’s body. “I didn’t want you to stop.” He wanted more. He raised his hands, seized Harry’s legs, and pulled him back in, pinning himself against the wall.

 _“Jesus,”_ Harry moaned, bracing one hand above his head. “I hope you want me to come because I’m - _gonna.”_ Severus just tightened his hands, humming low in his throat. “Oh - _fuck.”_ Harry began to thrust in earnest, and Severus pulled him in harder, and when Harry tried to withdraw again he didn’t allow it. He heard his name, desperate, almost strangled, and he swallowed, and swallowed again, and looked up one more time to see Harry, his eyes tight shut, his mouth open, and his forehead pressed against the wall over his head. He looked absolutely overcome, and there was a frozen moment where Severus could practically _feel_ his brain recording that image for future use, before Harry started to pulse into his mouth with a string of incredible profanity. He had to work hard to swallow all of it, and under his hands Harry’s knees almost buckled. Almost.

Harry did not withdraw for a long moment as he panted and gasped, and Severus slid his tongue across the length of him, tightening his hands, wanting him to stay. Harry twitched in his mouth, and he gasped again, and cursed, and rocked his hips forward, though he was starting to get too soft to do that at all. Then, finally, Severus released him and he pulled back, and Severus stayed just where he was as he heard the rustle of fabric being pulled back into place. And then he felt Harry’s hands on him - brushing his hair back and touching his jaw.

“Your turn,” Harry said, tugging Severus up from the floor. He staggered a little - his legs were stiff - but Harry didn’t wait for him to recover. He just pulled him into the bedroom and started undressing him. 

“My turn?” Severus asked as his clothes were stripped off his body. 

“Yeah,” Harry answered, sliding his trousers down his legs. “I assume you want that. I assume you want to come in my mouth. Do you?”

“Yes,” Severus answered. That part was getting a little easier, too. The part where Harry wanted him to… say what he wanted. Out loud. “I want your mouth.”

“Mm,” Harry murmured, starting on his own clothes. When they were both naked, Harry crawled onto the bed and laid on his back, with his head propped up a little against the pillows, and beckoned to him. Severus regarded him steadily. “I want you on top,” he said, and patted his chest. 

“Oh… I - ” Severus began, breaking off as he felt his face heat. Harry would be looking up at him like that. He’d be… very exposed. But then, he thought about what it would feel like, and he decided it would probably be worth it. And it was what Harry wanted. “You want me on top?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said. “I want you to fuck my mouth, and when I get hard again, you’re going to ride me. What do you say?”

_Pretty compelling argument, that._

“I say that you are a despicable pervert,” Severus answered, and moved to straddle him. Harry’s hands came up around his hips, pulling him still forward, until his mouth was level with Severus’ cock.

“Is that my pet name?” he asked, grinning. Severus grabbed his hair with both hands.

“No, your pet name is _Potter,”_ he growled. “And if you want me on top that’s what you’re going to get.” Harry made a little noise, half-way between a laugh and a moan as he opened his mouth, and Severus shifted forward. 

Harry did not have a hard time taking it. His throat was open, and hot, and wet and _exquisite,_ and Severus held tight to his hair, pulling him forward into each thrust. He was a little worried that was too much, at first, but Harry very quickly put that fear to rest by taking hold of his hips with both hands, encouraging him, and pressing him in harder. Harry _did_ want him to go harder, Severus realized with a shiver of greed. Harry wanted him to be rough. Harry wanted him to just _take_. 

So, Severus took. He just took what he wanted without mercy, without regard for Harry’s comfort, and without shame, and Harry did not stop him. Harry dug his fingers in. Harry liked it, Harry wanted more, and Severus _really_ liked it, and he was going to come.

“Oh, yes,” he gasped. “Look at you - _fuck - ”_ One of Harry’s hands slid further, between his legs, and there was a gentle touch at the entrance to his body, and the brush of fingertips across his balls, and he _exploded. “Harry - GOD.”_ His hips jerked forward and he held Harry’s head hard against his lap, and the pleasure was _incredible -_ he saw _stars -_ and Harry took everything he was given, his fingers still teasing at him, and holding him in, and _oh holy merciful god in heaven I love you._

Severus went weak, collapsing forward against the headboard, trembling and panting, and when he slipped out of Harry’s mouth he did not move. He did not care that he was naked, straddling Harry’s chest, or that Harry was probably looking at him. He did not feel embarrassed at all. What he did feel was Harry’s whispered breath, and the tingle of magic, and then Harry’s fingers, slick with lubrication. 

“Good?” Harry asked, his voice gravelly. He pressed a kiss to Severus’ ribs. “Ready for more? I am. Fucking hot as hell you using me like that.” Severus opened his mouth but no sound came out as two of Harry’s fingers slid inside him to the knuckle. And then a sound did come out, but it was frail, and he hoped Harry hadn’t heard it. But Harry had. “Oh, yes,” he breathed. “You want more, don’t you?” He did want more. He didn’t think he’d ever be satisfied. He would never have enough of this. Of Harry. God. It was all he thought about. “Want to ride me? Do you? You want my cock? Choking on you really got me hard fast. Want to feel it?”

Severus’ head was swimming. That was a lot of questions.

_Yes, and yes, and yes, and yes, and fucking hell that is filthy and YES._

“Harry - ”

Harry’s hands moved back to his hips and dug in, easing him down a tiny bit. Just as Severus could feel the blunt tip of his prick, though, he stopped, and his hands were so implacably strong that Severus couldn’t even do what he wanted to do - which was fucking _impale himself._

He gasped in frustration.

“You want my cock?” Harry asked again. Severus grabbed his shoulders, burying his face into his hair. “C’mon, Severus, it’s right there. Say it, and you’ll get it.” He pressed up a little with his hips, almost enough to breach the tight ring of muscle, but not quite. Severus was struck with the mad urge to struggle, but instead he dug his nails into Harry’s shoulders, hard. 

_Go on, say it. You can do it. Just say it, and get what you want. Go on._

“I want your cock,” he whispered, embarrassment so strong flooding him that he was sure his whole body was blushing. “Give it to me. Please.” Harry hummed in satisfaction and started to pull him down, spearing him open by degrees, and Severus cried out - _loud._ He was so sensitive after getting off so hard that it felt like every nerve in his body was awake. Awake, and tingling, and absolutely _desperate_ for more.

“Feels good?” Harry asked, his voice so deep it was more a sensation than a sound. He pressed his hips up as Severus was fully seated on him, and god - he felt _huge_ like that. “It does to me.”

“Yes - yes it feels good.” It was getting easier. The talking. It was getting easier. “Fuck me - Harry - _please.”_ Harry’s lip curled back from his teeth and he lifted Severus up and then jerked him down, hard, almost knocking the breath out of him. He did it again, and again, and then Severus felt his knees shifting so he could get his feet under him, and he held Severus still with his hands as he fucked up into him. Severus could feel the hard muscle of Harry’s body very distinctly under his hands and between his legs, and a frisson of outrageous boldness raced up his spine. He wasn’t hard yet - he’d _just_ gotten off - but it didn’t matter. He was on fire. He grabbed Harry by the hair and pinned his head back to the bed, and Harry yelped in surprise. “I thought you wanted me to ride you,” Severus snarled. 

“I do,” Harry gasped, and dropped his hands back from Severus’ hips like he was afraid they were going to be slapped off. Severus leaned over him and kissed him on the mouth, shifting forward on his cock and swallowing the sound he made. 

“Then fucking stay still and let me.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry breathed. His eyes were wide - his pupils huge - and Severus braced both hands on his chest and started to move. He used his legs to lift himself up, and gravity to drop back down, and his hands to hold Harry to the bed. He knew, of course, that he was only pinning Harry down because Harry was allowing it. He knew that Harry could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. But Harry wasn’t doing that. He was doing what he’d been told to do - which was stay still. 

“What a good boy,” Severus murmured, shifting one hand to the center of Harry’s chest and moving the other to the headboard for more leverage. “You’re so compliant when you’re - getting - what - you _want.”_ Harry dropped his head back to the pillows with a rapturous moan, and Severus’ toes curled. “Imagine the things I could have done to you. The _moment_ you turned seventeen - ” He broke off with a grunt of effort, rocking his hips forward and then grinding down. 

“Now who’s a _-_ pervert?” Harry’s words broke off in the middle with a sharp inhale, and his hands came up to rest on Severus’ legs, though he did not try to take control.

“You’re such a terrible influence on me,” Severus hissed, and covered Harry’s mouth with his hand. _“Quiet.”_ Harry’s fingernails dug into his legs and dragged down, and then one of his hands curled around Severus’ cock and he realized he was already hard again. He began to move more fervently, pressing his palm harder over Harry’s mouth, and thrusting up into his hand and down onto his cock. Harry’s breath was hot, huffing out over his skin, and his eyes were open, looking up at him like he was a fucking _miracle._ Harry made a desperate little noise - muffled under Severus palm - and Severus pressed his fingertips in, suddenly overwhelmed with a very specific need. “Don’t want to fight for it after all?” he purred. “Who knew you were so easy to _control.”_

Harry’s eyes narrowed and a thrill of delicious fear poured down from Severus’ belly into his legs. 

_Oh, yes, please -_

Harry seized the hand over his mouth and twisted it off, and Severus yelped, but it was cut off half-way as Harry grabbed him by the throat and spilled him onto his back. Harry was still inside him - hadn’t even pulled out to do it - but now Severus was pinned down by his bodyweight, and he was _really pinned,_ and Harry bore down onto him and glared into his eyes.

“I’m not easy to control,” he said.

“Hard,” Severus breathed. Harry dragged Severus’ hips up onto his thighs and obeyed, fucking him hard - ruthlessly - holding him to the bed with the hand around his neck. Severus tried to grab at him but Harry hissed some word or phrase and Severus’ arms jerked over his head. He couldn’t even look up to see what had been done to him - he could only see Harry’s face or close his eyes. So, he looked at Harry - his teeth bared, a scowl of concentration drawing his eyebrows down, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders corded and tight. 

_Fuck me - yes - oh, yes, harder, harder -_

He couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say anything at all. 

“Is this what you want from me?” Harry growled, pressing his fingertips into the sides of Severus’ neck. “You want me to prove that you’re mine? You are. You’re _MINE.”_ Severus was lightheaded. Dizzy. But it didn’t feel bad - it just felt like a _lot._ He flexed his hands and curled them into fists against whatever was holding his arms, and opened his mouth, and Harry kissed him, but did not let go of his throat. “This is going to feel really good,” he whispered, and pressed harder, and the edges of Severus’ vision started to dim. It was just his fingertips doing that. Just his _fingertips._ The pressure released a little, and his vision cleared, but then Harry did it again, and his other hand appeared around Severus’ cock. How in god’s name he could do all that at once, Severus had no idea. Stroking him, pinning him, cutting off the blood to his brain, and fucking him, and _taunting him_ all at the same time? He was a prodigy. 

Thinking that, Severus wondered if he was about to pass out. There was an interesting floating sensation inside him, like he was weightless, and the sounds of Harry’s breath and their bodies coming together were very distant - almost like he was underwater.

The fingers pressing against his throat relaxed, and every sensation in his body crashed back in on him all at once. He instantly tipped over, spurting out over Harry’s fingers, and using his new-found ability to make noise to make a lot of noise. He sobbed out Harry’s name, cursing, praising him, resisting hard against his trapped arms, and Harry pinned him back down by the hair and just kept fucking him.

“Oh _GOD that SOUND - ”_ Harry cried out, his hips stuttering forward so hard that Severus was pushed back towards the edge of the bed. But Harry pulled him back, gasping into his chest, keeping him from falling even though he was obviously coming and any normal person would be completely focused on their own pleasure right at that moment instead of worrying about their lover getting too close to the edge of the bed. “Fuck - fuck - _fuck - ”_ He tugged Severus down against him one more time, knocking a pathetic little whimper out of him. “Fuck…” he breathed. “Oh… Uh… _Finite.”_ Severus’ arms, freed, dropped back down to the bed. “Sorry.” He pulled Severus back a little further from the edge, and then spilled forward over his chest. Severus wrapped his arms around him. His wrists hurt. He should remember not to pull so hard when he was tied up.

“I’m going to get you a jar for inappropriate apologies. One Galleon per,” he said.

“Hm?” Harry murmured. “Oh. Right. Oops. How about… you’re welcome?”

“Better.” Harry chuckled against his skin. His body was warm, and heavy, and draped over him like that it felt good. Like shelter. 

For a while they just breathed, but then, just when Severus was on the verge of falling asleep, Harry spoke.

“Severus?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I take you on a date?”

Severus peered down at him to see his sparkling green eyes turned up. “What?”

“A date,” Harry answered, folding his hands on Severus’ chest and resting his chin on them. “You know. Like… a real one.”

“Like what?”

“Dinner.”

“We have dinner together every night.” Harry rolled his eyes, and Severus knew he was being obstructionist but he didn’t care. “I just had breakfast with you today.”

“I mean like out. To a restaurant.”

“Let's discuss this later. When you’re not on top of me. And when I’m not…”

“Inclined to be docile?”

“Do I seem _docile?”_

Harry kissed his chest, and then his scars, and Severus dropped his head back to the bed. “A little bit, yeah,” Harry whispered. “Like you’ve been hit with a tranquilizer dart.” What an irritating thing to say. Severus pushed on him. 

“Get off,” he said, scooting out from under him with no small effort and sitting up. “Ugh. _Scourgify.”_ Harry propped himself up on one elbow to look at him.

“It’s pretty annoying that no one knows we’re together,” he said.

“Annoying for _whom? Accio_ trousers.” Severus started to dress, and Harry frowned.

“Did I make you angry?”

“No.”

“What’s the deal, then? Too rough?”

Severus sighed, and turned back around to look at him, naked, and perfect, and unashamed. “No, it wasn’t too rough and you know it,” he said. “And you can't take me out on a date and you know that, too.”

“Do I?” Harry asked back, sitting up against the headboard. 

“Yes. You do.” Severus started buttoning up his shirt, while Harry stayed resolutely stark naked. “You’re an international heartthrob, Potter.” He paused. “I’d get a mountain of howlers.” 

“Probably,” Harry chuckled. “I wonder what I’d get.”

“Gift certificates for psychotherapy,” Severus muttered, tucking in his tails. 

“Come on. I really don’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

“I’m a private person,” Severus said. 

“I know you are. But I’d like to take you out, and I can’t do that if I’m a secret.”

“A _secret,”_ Severus scoffed, and crossed his arms. “Look. I don’t want my personal business splattered all over the tabloids. And _don’t,”_ he held up a hand to forestall Harry’s argument, “try to tell me it wouldn’t be. If you take me on a _date_ I will never have another quiet moment.”

Harry did not seem pleased by that argument.

“Fine,” he said shortly. “How about I take you out as a friend, then? We did fight a war together. Maybe we’re _friends_.”

Severus looked at the ceiling. It was hard to argue with him when he was so… exposed. It was distracting. “If anyone saw us together at a _restaurant_ , It’d be bloody _obvious_.”

“Why?” Harry countered. “Because I’m irresistibly handsome and you’re obsessed with me?” He smiled brilliantly and Severus wished he had a drink in his hand so he could throw it in his face. Because yes, that was the reason. And he didn’t like it. “You spent eighteen years hiding your true loyalties from Voldemort. You’re telling me you couldn’t manage to keep your _moon eyes_ under control for a single dinner with me? _Please.”_

Severus turned away. “I’m going to go.”

Harry jumped up off the bed. “Hey, don’t go,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” Severus whipped back around to sneer at him. 

“Moon eyes,” he spat. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, holding out his hands. “I just - ”

“Wish you could have literally everything you want at all times? What a surprise.”

Harry dropped his arms back down by his sides. “No, I just want to be with you. For a while. And…” He looked embarrassed. Severus thought it was rather sweet, and then he was annoyed again. “I don’t want it to be a secret.”

“So, what? You want to be my _boyfriend?”_ Severus hissed. “Get your head out of your _arse.”_

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry answered acidly. “Am I just a cock with legs to you?”

“You have hands, too. And a mouth.” _Oh, fuck, what kind of thing was that to say? Merlin, take it back._ Harry scrunched up his face and started summoning his clothes, and Severus watched him, stricken. He hadn’t meant to say that, not even a little bit.“Harry, wait - ”

“No, that’s fine. I’m used to being that to people. Just a _body._ I’ve been that my whole life.” He tugged his shirt over his head, and walked out, barefoot. 

“Harry - ” Severus followed him out of the bedroom, out the entrance to his rooms, and into the corridor, where he was finally able to catch hold of him. “Just - wait a moment, please.” Harry’s arm tensed up in his hand like he was about to jerk it back, but his restraint was perfect, as always. So, he just turned to look at him, though Severus wouldn’t have begrudged him a slap in the face right then.

“What?” he asked. “Want to have a row in the corridor? Very subtle. Great way to keep our relationship a secret.”

Severus looked around. There wasn’t anyone around that he could see. “I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly. “I just - don’t want - ”

“Anyone to know that we’re together. If we even _are.”_

“We are. I - ” He was no good at this. He never had been. No good at courtship. No good at commitment. Not soft. Not kind. Not gentle or considerate. He was used to being alone, and a few months of whirlwind romance with a gorgeous, famous, twenty-two year old libertine was not enough to counteract that. He was finally fucking it up. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to this. You have to be … patient with me.”

Harry glared fiercely at him, but then, after a moment, his eyes softened. 

“People are going to find out,” Harry said. “I’ve already heard some… whispers. I think it would be better if we did it on our terms.”

“What whispers?” Severus asked. 

Harry twisted his mouth and looked at his feet. “Maybe we should go back in.”

“Fine.” Severus released his arm, now that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to bolt. “Shall we have a drink?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“I do.” 

  
  



End file.
